


on the day we met

by sleep_is_good_books_are_better



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: (and then to lovers but that comes later), Communication, Dealing with the Circle, Dorian Pavus is a Good Friend, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Mages and Templars, Magic, Post - In Hushed Whispers, or will be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 00:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17335346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleep_is_good_books_are_better/pseuds/sleep_is_good_books_are_better
Summary: In a snowy clearing outside of Haven, the once Knight Commander of Kirkwall and the former Speaker of the Revolutionists reach a new understanding.





	on the day we met

“What do you want?” The words are short and clipped and delivered out of the corner of her mouth. “Commander, I’ve been using magic since I was six. I don’t need a bodyguard, and I certainly don’t need a templar babysitter.”

Cullen sighs, already tense. “Well, you chased away the last three soldiers I’ve set after you, so.” Quite dramatically, he wants to add, but he figures she’s angry enough.

Lady Trevelyan turns to face him, a single eyebrow arched and a single hand on her hip. She sends a line of sparks dancing along the fingers of her other hand. She’s the very picture of a cocky mage, and Cullen has to force _his_ hand to stay off the pommel of his sword.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Commander.”

Oh, he does not doubt that. She doesn’t have her staff, but she’s already gathering fire in her palms. “The fact remains, Herald, that without your mark, we have no way to seal rifts. So ensuring-“

As he speaks, the Herald’s face becomes gradually redder, and he can practically hear her teeth grinding together. “Fine, stay if you want to so badly.” Her glare turns into a grin full of angry pride and too many teeth. “I’d stand back if I were you, though.”

Cullen takes a step back, and braces himself for her display.

* * *

 It’s become a routine. He discovers she’s slipped away at some point in the late afternoon when the rest of Cullen’s recruits are cooling off for the day, and follows her into some clearing where she inevitably puts on a show. She’ll begin by summoning a lightning storm big enough to light the whole forest on fire or throwing trees around or doing something ungodly with the Veil that makes him ache for enough lyrium to stop her, just so he can feel safe. It’s a display, he knows this, a performance that’s designed to scare him. Big talk from someone who loudly refused any kind of escort, he thinks, but twenty years of training and ten years of bad dreams don’t go away overnight, and his hand tightens on the pommel of his sword regardless. So, day after day he wastes time standing here and letting her use him as a bogeyman for the templars she’s too scared to face.

* * *

 It’s right after she comes back from Redcliffe castle that he notices the change. She’s offered the mages an alliance, because of course she has, and Cullen can already see the potential abominations.

“What were you thinking, turning mages loose with no oversight? The Veil is torn open!”

He waits, braces himself for the inevitable tirade about mages and freedom and self-oversight, or for her to make some scathing remark about templars, but all she says is, “Enough. I made my choice. Leave it be.”

Her voice is weary, almost thin. Cullen is struck by the curve in her usually proud shoulders, and he can’t bring himself to berate her any more than he already has.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Cassandra is there to pick up the thread, jumping to Trevelyan’s defense.

“Enough arguing! None of us were there. We cannot afford to second guess our people. The sole point of the Herald’s mission was to gain the mages’ aid, and that was accomplished.”

“The voice of pragmatism speaks! And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments.”

At the new voice, Cullen turns. There, leaning against the wall, is the same mage that approached them with information about Alexius. The Tevinter one. Cullen feels his shoulders tense and his hand check that he still has his sword.

“Closing the Breach is all the matters.”

With the arrival of the Tevinter mage, Lady Trevelyan seems to have relaxed somewhat. She’s looking at him as she speaks. “Agreed. What happened at Redcliffe… well.” She takes a deep breath and releases it as a sigh. “We need to close that Breach.”

“We should also look into the things you saw in that this ‘dark future.’ The assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army?” The air grows tense at Leliana’s words. Luckily, the Tevinter is there to break the silence.

“Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do. Orlais falls, the Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone!”

“Yes, thank you for that, Dorian,” the Herald deadpans.

_So that was his name_ , Cullen thinks before speaking. “One battle at a time. It’s going to take time to organize our troops and the mage recruits. Let’s take this to the war room.” He turns to Lady Trevelyan, notices the downward turn of her mouth. “Join us. None of this means anything without your mark, after all.”

Her lips turn up in a wry grin. “And here I had hoped to sit out the assault on the Breach. Take a nap. Maybe read a book.”

He can’t help but smile in response. “What is it they say? “No rest for the wicked”?”

Her expression becomes hard at the edges. “Apparently so. But what does that make us, I wonder?”

In that moment, Cullen is struck by how exhausted she looks. She almost seems to be swaying on her feet.

“I’ll skip the war council, but I’d like to see this Breach up close, if you don’t mind.” The moment is cut by the swagger Cullen can already tell is typical of the Tevinter.

A real smile sweeps the Herald’s face. “Then… you’re staying?”

“Oh, didn’t I mention? The South is so charming and rustic. I adore it to little pieces.”

The Herald’s grin grows wider, if possible. “I’m glad.”

“Well, that just shows you have good taste.”

Trevelyan steps forward and loops her arm through Dorian’s. “Then I shall have to flaunt it. Come, I’ll show you around.” She turns back to the rest of them. “If we’re finished?”

Cullen nods. “I’ll begin preparations to march on the summit. Maker willing, the mages will be enough to grant us victory.”

For a brief moment, all the laughter drains from Trevelyan’s face. “Yes. They have to be.” Her smile is already back in place as she tugs on Dorian’s arm. “Shall we?”

With that, the two mages are gone, vanishing in the glare of the noonday sun.

* * *

That evening, Cullen arrives at the clearing to find the Herald already there. She’s unusually quiet. There are no fireballs and no lightning. Instead she’s sitting on a rock just off the edge of the clearing, looking pensive. Occasionally, she’ll twist her fingers or make a short hand gesture, and a gleaming ribbon of light appears in their wake. The ribbons float upwards away from her, shimmering and dancing as they go, until they reach the tree branches above and vanish. As he watches, Cullen notices that the color of… whatever it is she’s making is shifting and changing – blue, purple, yellow, red – but the most frequent color by far is the angry, bright green of the mark on her hand.

_It's strangely peaceful_ , he thinks, _just being out here in the woods_. He almost finds himself forgetting that the small figure perched on the rock across from him is one of the most dangerous mages he’s ever met.

He doesn’t know how much time is lost to the snowy quiet as she bends light with her fingers and he stands there, watching.

“Three times.” Her voice breaks the silence like a stone on the surface of a lake, and in his shock, his only response is “What?”

“Three times.” She’s very pointedly keeping her gaze on the curls of light in front of her and off of him, and her voice strikes him as lonely, somehow. “Three times. That’s how many times you laid siege to Redcliffe castle.” She’s still now, and her existing cantrips slowly wink out. “You knew it was pointless, you knew it was impossible, and you still threw everything you had, everything _we_ had, into a cause you knew to be hopeless.” Her voice is breaking by the time she’s finished speaking.

For a moment, he’s confused, unsure as to what she’s referring to, before he realizes it must be that “dark future” she saw in Redcliffe.

“Wha… well, of, of course I did! Without your mark-!”

She cuts him off with a sound that is half a laugh and half a sigh. “Commander, I’m trying to make a point.”

“Oh.” He forces himself to relax. “Yes?”

She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and looks away before opening them again. “I was wrong.” She turns her head to face him. “I was wrong about you, and...” here, her gaze darts away for a moment before finding him again. “And I was wrong about the Templars.”

Cullen knows his shock must be written all over her face from the way she raises a hand. “I’m not saying there are not those who abuse their power,” at this, Cullen feels his inside twist,” but…” another deep breath, “It was wrong of me to malign all members of the order, and it was wrong of me to use you as a scapegoat for my fears.” She looks him directly in the eyes. “I hope you can forgive me.”

_This_ , from a women whose response when he proposed reaching out to the Templars was to threaten to _leave_.

Her face, open and sincere and completely devoid of its usual defensive vitriol, catches him off guard. Cullen feels his hand go to the back of his neck as he fumbles for the right response. “What- what you were doing before, what was it?”

She looks confused for a moment before her eyes widen in comprehension. “Oh, you mean with the barriers? It’s not dangerous, I promise!” She stops, halfway standing, and smiles widely. “Let me show you something!” Her enthusiastic smile suddenly falls, and she sits back down. “I mean… if you’re alright with that.”

Despite the twenty years of templar training under his belt, Cullen can’t find it in him to say no. “No, I mean yes, I mean- no, it’s doesn’t bother me.” Which he is surprised to find is only half a lie.

She grins and pats the rock next to her. “Sit.”

He does.

Once he’s seated, she begins a series of hand gestures, gathering pieces of what he now knows to be barriers on her palm. As the ball grows, he finds himself beginning to grow tense alongside it. Once she’s apparently satisfied, she flattens her palm in front of her, brings it to her mouth, and blows. As the ball drifts away, the structure begins to unfold until finally, about a foot away-

“It’s a person!” And it is. Floating there in front of them, in miniature, is a humanoid figure dressed in a ballgown, complete with full skirts and what appears to be a corset. The figure is featureless, but the silhouette has enough detail for him to recognize hair pinned into an elaborate up do. “What… how?”

Upon looking at Lady Trevelyan, he finds her wearing a small smile and a light blush. “It’s made of the same material as a barrier.” She shrugs. “I just bend it differently.” Her smile grows to carry a hint of nostalgia. “I used to use them to tell stories in the Circle.”

It’s the first time he’s heard her speak of the Circle without anger, but he pushes that thought aside. “Stories?”

She nods. “Like this.” Then, in a similar manner as the first, she fashions another figure, a man this time. She twitches her fingers, and the man bows to the woman. The woman curtsies in response, and the two figures begin to dance.

He inhales sharply. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Well, Commander, I wager I could show you a lot of things you’ve never seen a mage do before.” He can feel a blush spreading across his cheeks at her teasing tone of voice. Startled, he turns to her to see her eyes clenched shut and her mouth looking like she’s just swallowed a lemon. “Shit. I didn’t mean it like that,” she says quickly. “I only meant…”

When her eyes open, they’re focused on the snowy tree trunks in front of her. “I only mean, for an institution that is seemingly concerned with ensuring mages aren’t a danger to themselves or others, the Circle teaches us a lot of ways to hurt people, and not many ways to do much else.” She closes her eyes, sighing deeply before opening them again. “And then we disband the Circles, and what happens?” She smiles at him bitterly, and it’s somehow one of the saddest things Cullen has ever seen. “To a hammer every problem in the world is a nail.” She turns away, shaking her head. “I don’t know what I was expecting.”

Cullen isn’t quite sure what to say when the realization strikes him like one of her lightening strikes.

He isn’t scared, or tense, or on edge.

He’s _relaxed._

He’s sitting next to someone he knows to be a powerful mage and he’s _relaxed_.

Cullen looks up at the figures in front of them, still dancing, at the feat of magic he didn’t know possible an hour ago.

_Maybe,_ he thinks, _she isn’t the only one who was wrong_.

He makes his choice.

Turning to her, he extends a hand.

Upon noticing it, she looks confused. “What is this?”

The words come surprisingly easily. “A fresh start.” He pulls back, removes his glove, and then reaches out again. “Cullen Rutherford.”

She smiles through the sadness in her eyes and the feeling in Cullen’s chest is a lot like triumph.

She reaches out and puts her hand in his. It’s warm, despite the weather, and feels far too small in comparison to the destruction he knows it’s capable of.

They shake, and, in the branches above them, Theodosia’s creations dance on.

**Author's Note:**

> Funny story - I wrote this over two years ago, and then it sat on my hard drive gathering dust while I flitted off to other things, including a multi-chapter fic about Theo's shenanigans with Hawke and Co. Maybe someday, that will be fit to see the light of day. 
> 
> Maybe.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


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